Though these might not be any more interesting than that.
1. I can ride a unicycle. I learned in high school while on the dance team, we'd ride in the parade our city puts on every 24th of July (the day the pioneers made it to the Utah valley). We spent four hours every day in the summer riding those things, until we were so saddle sore we actually had SORES. Open wounds. In fact, some of the girls had GENIUS ideas to put maxi pads on the seats for some extra cushion. That first year we had a "retreat", basically hell practices for three days. We danced in the hot sun and rode our unicycles up insanely steep hills. I can still ride. I still think about it every once in a while, and have made a mental note to get it from my parents garage the next time I'm home. It's the only interesting talent I have.
2. As I've mentioned before, I danced in the closing ceremony for the 2002 Winter Olympics in Salt Lake City. I rubbed shoulders with some celebrities, enjoyed the wonderful spirit of camaraderie, all while wearing a lovely black one piece suit and ski mask.
3. I hate beans. Black, pinto, refried, garbanzo, string, white, blue, purple. You name it. Just thinking about them gives me the heevies. My friends all know this and continually tease me for the one time I "flipped out" when I found a refried bean in my tostada salad. I didn't flip out, I just dry-heaved a little. Refried are the worst of the little devils. Oh, but I do enjoy edamame. I enjoy that very much.
4. When I was in sixth grade the local 4-H Guide Dog chapter came to my school and put on a presentation. It ignited a little fire inside of me that worked it's way in and through every little cell of my body until one day it randomly decided to make it's way out. I began my quest to become a guide dog handler, (puppy walker? Since when did they start calling it that?) despite the fact that my parents had made it very clear to me that we wouldn't be getting a dog. I begged. I pleaded. I wrote letters. I begged some more. I went to guide dog meetings every Monday night for a year, trying to prove my responsibility. One glorious day my dad sat me down and told me that I could either get a small dog to keep, or become a guide dog handler, which of course, meant I'd have to give up the dog after a year and half to continue on to the program. Of course you know what I chose. It was the best year of my life, followed by the hardest good bye in all of my 15 years. Bellam, my dog, made it all the way to the end of the program before he was dropped because of his chronic ear infections. They always offer the dropped dogs back to their puppy handlers, but because of my new baby sister my parents wouldn't let me keep him. He now lives somewhere in Oregon with a lovely man who takes him on mile long walks in the mountains or on the beach every day. I still miss him.
5. I seem to have an affinity for passing out. The first time I did it was in front of a few hundred people while giving a talk in church. Once on purpose at a party in junior high because it was the new "it" thing to do. I passed out in a P.F. Changs at rush hour, once while giving blood at my university, once while getting four stitches on my finger, once in the bathroom of our little apartment in Albany in front of my new husband who had never before seen someone do so. Just to name a few.
6. I've mentioned this before as well, but it's still new to me. I'm more aware of it now and so is Caleb. "What were you just thinking? You were tapping your feet.....were you counting again? What were you counting? Come on! Tell me!"
7. I think. A lot. I imagine scenarios in my head while I'm getting dressed in the morning, happy ones, sad ones, crazy ones. I imagine what my life would perhaps be like if I had made one minor little change here or there. I imagine what it would be like to get in a car wreck, spend a week in the hospital. I imagine what it will be like to have baby, how long it will take before the newness wears off and I'm fondly thinking back to the "easy days" before him / her. I imagine what those first moments will be like when I see him / her, after nine months of wondering. I imagine what it would be like to save someone, to have to use my CPR skills. I try to imagine how frightening it would be to choke on something. I imagine what I would be doing right now if I weren't married. If I'd be living on my own or with my parents. If I would be a nurse by now. If I would still be working as a receptionist at my dad's office. If I would be wishing to be married. If I would still be starving myself. I imagine what it would be like to lose a loved one, my parents, even Caleb. Sometimes I wonder those things at night, imagine what I would do, if I would melt into a puddle and not get out of bed for days. I imagine people trying to comfort me, how terrible it would be. Those nights I usually end up bawling and waking up Caleb and telling him that I'm going to die first.
Twisted, I know. I can't help it, my mind runs a million miles an hour. It's bound to land on the horrible stuff every once in a while.
8. I have always wanted to be an actress, a model, a singer, something, though I have zero skills in those areas. I secretly hope that one day a talent scout will tap my shoulder as I'm fingering through the clothes in a department store and ask me if I have an agent. I'll say no, and tell me that he'd love to be mine, as he thinks I have potential. And since this is my perfect world, I end up doing it on the side, appearing in magazines but still managing to have a normal life raising my children.
A girl can dream, right?
(And now I'm supposed to tag other people right? I don't know very many people on the internet, so let's just say if you're reading this you've been tagged. And let me know too, cause I'd love to read them!)
Here, I decide to use my racket. 
This? This is what I call......alright, I have no clue. At least my arm has somewhat been subdued...
It was a gorgeous chapel, and every once in a while the bells would ring out a song. Really beautiful. Though I will make it known that I am NOT a fan of the whole chiming out the hour thing. Especially while I'm in a cemetery. I have an irrational fear of grandfather clocks, I can't explain it. I just do. 
After a long flight, many french fries, several wobbly steps, a little bit of dog-ear pulling, and a bottle or two.....he crashed.
